


Part One

by Segolène (SecretSegolene)



Series: Eternal Return [2]
Category: Tokyo Babylon
Genre: Determinism, F/F, Fix-It, I hope someone finds enjoyment from this story :), M/M, Removing character and relationship tags for now, There will be some original characters after the setup, Until I have time to finish the setup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretSegolene/pseuds/Segol%C3%A8ne
Summary: Eternal recurrence, or eternal return, is a theory of determinism present in a number of world religions. It states that all cause and effect has been fixed since the first cause set the universe in motion. One answer to this is the hypothesised presence of true randomness. In literary words, we will throw chaos at the stars that crossed our lovers.
Series: Eternal Return [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937797
Kudos: 3





	1. Reprise (A)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1990, Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much I just want things to go a little better. Similar enough that we’ll recognise the story, but just different enough that there’s time to process the train before it wrecks. 
> 
> How? Maybe Subaru can have a bit more information a bit sooner? Maybe by remembering his dreams just enough to mention them? 
> 
> I’ve only planned half of this so far, but if you like my breezy style then please indulge me. :)

He would see him again through the windows of a moving train. The place and time hardly matter to this story. 

Under the metallic hum, he listened for a familiar resonance and felt none. But there was no mistake - that was the boy with his mark on both hands.

He would find out that the boy was called Subaru, the Japanese name for the Pleiades. Clumsy as the child was, Subaru would be softly spoken and beautiful. 

He would wonder whether he can love this Subaru.

_Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires..._

Above the chatter, someone was calling his name.

"Seishirou!" 

Subaru always addressed him politely. This meant using the suffix _-san_ after his name each time. Doing so was only natural, given the near decade between their ages. It was not something, therefore, that Seishirou registered.

Subaru was well dressed, in a sleeveless black shirt and coat, with a short-brimmed hat that matched his leather gloves. He was also three quarters of an hour late.

"My work overran. I'm so sorry." He gave his apology between short breaths, hands on knees and head bowed from exertion. 

Seishirou's annoyance dissipated swiftly enough, and he offered his own apology in turn.

"I was the one who insisted we meet today," he said, mostly sincere. "I still have some time. Shall we go?"

Subaru asked where he would like to go.

Seishirou looked at the signs which pointed to an aviary in one direction and a tapir enclosure in the other, then suggested, "Ice cream?"

Subaru smiled gratefully and said ice cream sounded fantastic.

Seishirou and Subaru belonged to opposite families. 

It was appropriate that their names were both callbacks to mythology and metaphors for fate. While Subaru and his twin sister Hokuto were both named after constellations, the makeup of Seishirou's name stood for 'star' and 'chronicle'. If this weren't poetic enough, there was also the fact that their families were long-standing professional rivals. Except, this rivalry reached deeply into long-buried former empires, and the heads of each bloodline had spared little effort in blurring the lines between professional enmity and personal.

Seishirou, for his part, wasn't entirely sure how much of this the twins actually knew. By most accounts, he should be surprised if either of them knew anything at all about his real lineage. He didn't lie as such, but all anyone had was conjecture.

There were times, however, when Seishirou was given reason to wonder.

Hokuto, on one hand, was perceptive and had an especially sharp eye for other people. Not so great with regards to herself, but her judgements were invariably spot-on. 

Subaru, on the other, interacted with society as if through an invisible shroud. He was sensitive and honest. He kept his distance as if his role were to oversee and not to take part. Where his job was, inevitably, to interfere, Subaru did so with the lightest touch possible. Above all, he did no harm.

That Hokuto had caught a whiff of danger from Seishirou's impeccably traquil demeanour was impressive but not totally unbelievable. That Subaru, though, might sometimes have given him cause to doubt was… well, it was a surprise. More than that, it was a surprise whose implications Seishirou found himself reluctant to properly consider.

Something told him - irrational though the notion might be - that all this was not supposed to unfold this way. It wasn't that Seishirou believed in determinism, but in truth it wasn't that he disbelieved either. Simply put, if he couldn't control it, then it ceased to matter to him either way. Even so, his instincts burned with the conviction that something about the events of these past months was subtly out of place.

The first time had been on the special viewing platform at the very top of Tokyo Tower. An exorcism had lasted most of the night and it was almost dawn. Subaru's head leaned subtly against his shoulder. Trails of coloured lights mapped out the restless city. 

Subaru shifted his weight and murmured a few words. His gloved hands curled in his lap. They had both been still for a while, and Seishirou could no longer guess what thoughts might be skimming over the surface of his mind. Perhaps, he might simply be dreaming.

Seishirou had tucked his glasses into the breast pocket of his suit. He didn't need them, though he kept that quiet. 

He realised that in half-light, outlines of their reflections could be made out in the tilted panes of glass that encircled the platform. Ghostly silhouettes suspended over the city, two young lovers at a glance. In the image, Subaru's eyes were open. They locked with his.

"So you're awake," Seishirou heard himself say. He wasn't sure why the fact had subtly unnerved him.

In reply, Subaru simply gazed at him in that indirect way. The glass and its backlit landscape stained their faces with shades of red, white and warm amber. The lone pair of green eyes - Subaru's - stood out starkly like those of camouflaged predator. 

Seishirou wanted to smile at the irony.

Instead he asked, "What were you saying earlier? I couldn't hear."

Subaru didn't seem to mind the question, but he took his time before giving an answer.

"I was just thinking," he said, distantly as if half-remembering a dream, "How familiar your face looks in that glass."

"Oh?" Seishirou asked.

"And that for a while now, I've had a strong sense that we know each other. That we've met before, but I just can't quite put my finger on when and where."

"Is that so," Seishirou said softly.

Subaru hummed in reply. Seishirou felt the sound as a low vibration in his shoulder.

"Seishirou," Subaru said.

"What is it?"

"If there was something you knew that I should know, would you tell me?"

Seishirou sat very still. He wanted to ask what exactly Subaru had in mind. He chose his next words with exceeding care. However, the even breaths rising and falling against him and the translucent green eyes no longer visible in the refracted cityscape told him that Subaru had fallen asleep.

Come to think of it, Subaru had begun to look at him with an innocuously cautious sort of expression ever since they had taken a picnic to Ueno Park. Seishirou had found it amusing and not a little morbid that the cherry tree Hokuto chose to canopy their lunch just had to be that one. His tree. 

"Now's the best time!" she had exclaimed, all but jumping onto a table to make the point. "Out of season means you don't have to bother with crowds of salarymen. It'll just be us, some kids and whatever old folks are out photosynthesising!"

Subaru hadn't looked convinced but he knew better than to talk his sister down (literally) from an idea that she had fixed on. Especially since, he likely reasoned, the prospect of this one seemed harmless, and maybe even had a chance of being pleasant.

Hokuto prepared the picnic, with micromanaged support from Seishirou, who also drove their little party to Ueno. 

If the cherry tree was happy to see him, it showed no sign. He noted that its bloom was as full and luscious as ever. The city police had caught wind of the politician who had been the barrow's most recent guest. But today, as he made sure to remind the insatiable roots and branches, they were simply visiting. For pleasure, he thought to himself. He allowed a brief ironic smile.

"Beautiful," a voice whispered beside him, "And terrifying."

Seishirou’s attention snapped to his left, where he hadn't noticed Subaru approach. Subaru stood gazing deep in thought at the tree’s multitudinous branches, its extravagant display of richness and life. 

The undertone of nostalgia was the same as in the early hours above Tokyo, when Subaru had murmured half in sleep while resting against his shoulder. This time again, his voice was too soft and low to catch every word. In snatched whispers, Seishirou heard: “How did...know…who…" 

An impulse took Seishirou. He called Subaru’s name and began to lower his glasses so as to meet startled eyes directly.

Subaru obediently met his gaze. “This tree," he said, as his eyes unfocused again, "It's the only one in full bloom. I wonder why that is."

Seishirou adopted a comfortable smile and pressed for his attention, saying: "You should know very well, Subaru.”

Subaru watched his face with a dimness in his clear eyes. Perhaps he didn’t notice the sudden shift in mood; perhaps it didn’t bother him. But their colour, Seishirou thought, looked stunning against the floral pink and surrounding verdure. 

"It's because," Seishirou continued blithely, "This tree enjoys the blood of all the corpses buried among its roots."

Seishirou held his mild, confident smile as the wind stirred the tips of his fringe and whipped Subaru's cropped hair away from the sharp line of his jaw. The boy was quite undeniably beautiful.

As Subaru said nothing, just watching him with that inwardly focused expression of his, the seconds dragged on and the space between them neither grew nor shrank. Hokuto, finally, interrupted their private reverie with a blunt reminder about the picnic they were waiting to share. 

Seishirou felt a prickle on his skin that he couldn't shake. It suggested, unbidden, that Subaru had seemed to know what he was going to say.


	2. Resonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1991, Winter

Seishirou found, to his surprise, that he had a lot of time for Hokuto. 

The older twin (by minutes, though she didn't let anyone forget it) was bright, adventurous and as clueless as sixteen-year-olds typically come. It seemed that in the moment of assignment, the gods had given Hokuto the lion's share of personality traits, and left Subaru with only a deep, amoral selflessness to nurture into something big enough to fill his heart. 

Everything that stood out visually about Subaru was Hokuto's work. Since they were always together, it was Hokuto's voice that you heard first, and her personality that lit up the room. She was like a shelter that Subaru could rest beneath. She lived at high speed and at full power so that he could have the freedom to be kind to his heart's content.

It was the same when Seishirou was with them. Where Subaru was, Hokuto was never far away. Of course, she also served the double purpose of being his uninvited chaperone whenever Seishirou was in their company. 

In reality, Seishirou didn't particularly mind either way. Hokuto's company was a different sort of diversion compared with attempting to win Subaru's affection. As it stood, Seishirou's tastes did not in fact extend to those who had yet to mature in their emotions, opinions and bodies. To say he was picky would be like saying he was proud - an tremendous understatement that inexcusably misrepresented the truth. 

Leaving private details aside, it was enough to say that Seishirou knew exactly what he liked and he knew where he was likely to find it. While Hokuto was fun, she was most definitely not Seishirou's type. Not in a million years. Subaru, on the other hand, given a few more years could quite conceivably blossom into a near-exact manifestation of his desires. But, Seishirou thought, to say that he and Subaru were incompatible as lovers might be another one of those inexcusable misrepresentations.

From time to time, Seishirou nevertheless indulged in guessing what sort of man this boy would grow into if allowed. He wondered what shape that innocent expression would take after enough inevitable harsh lessons in cynicism. He considered accelerating the transformation to satisfy his curiosity.

None of that would be happening today, though.

Hokuto, in one of her inconveniently perceptive moments, was shouting his name despite sitting metres apart on her living room floor. 

"What can I say?" Seishirou said in an attempt to deflect her disturbingly astute analysis of his horoscope. "I may not know about all that, but I can say for certain that that date is the day I was born." Both parts a lie, of course.

"Sei!" Hokuto shouted. She did not follow Subaru's habit of addressing him politely. Quite the opposite, in fact. What she actually called him, without a flicker of self-consciousness, was 'Sei-chan' - a suffix generally reserved for children and close friends. Seishirou was fairly certain that he was neither. He also lacked the will to care in this particular case.

He was curious about the sudden commission that his date with Subaru had been interrupted for. Seishirou had heard quite clearly from the handset of the public phone, even as Subaru held it away from his own ear to protect himself from Hokuto's loud admonishments.

"You don't have time to be on a date!" the reprimanding voice had blared. "Hurry up! Got it?"

Subaru answered that he had got the message. Naturally, Seishirou had decided to tag along.

While the twins explained, Seishirou half-listened, intrigued by the prophecy surrounding the end of the world. If the so-called Promised Day was scheduled to take place at the turn of the century, then mankind had perhaps eight years or so remaining in which to enjoy its time on Earth right up to the finish line.

Seishirou had said something similar once, which in the context of the Nostradamic prophecy seemed eerily fitting. "I love this city," he had said, "The only city in the world that laughs while it hurtles towards its own destruction."

He had thought Subaru might have been reproachful then, in posture or expression if not directly spoken. But Subaru had been surprisingly unaffected by his cruelly cynical statement. Since Seishirou had been driving, he was not able to look properly at Subaru's face, but in the corner of his eye he detected no hint of discomfort or objection. Rather, next to Hokuto's enthusiastic agreement, Subaru seemed contemplative.

"Hell is empty," Subaru had murmured, quietly enough that perhaps he had not consciously uttered the words out loud. Certainly, Hokuto continued holding forth for the remainder of the journey without appearing to have noticed.

Seishirou glanced back in his rear-view mirror.

_That's right. And all the devils are here._

This glib aphorism was high in Seishirou's thoughts when the chanting of a particularly malevolent and particularly forbidden sort of curse sounded from the telephone in Subaru's hand. 

"Now there's something you don't hear everyday," he mused, voicing his thoughts out loud.

By the time Subaru had finished chanting the counter-spell, the apartment was in disarray. Seishirou had subtly managed to keep flying objects a safe distance from either of the twins as well as from himself.

Subaru was distraught.

"It's not your fault if those girls suffer a bit as a result of your counterspell," Seishirou remarked in a tone that he intended to be matter of fact. "Malice has a way of coming back round. They invited something of the sort the moment they sought to harm. In this case, that something was only the spiritual backlash of their failed curse."

"But those poor girls," Subaru mumbled, forehead lowered to the counter and looking slightly dizzy. "If they weren't prepared…"

Quite right. The likely unprepared girls were probably still emptying their stomachs.

He perked up suddenly with a fresh and gallant resolve. "I have to make them stop," he said, his jaw firm and his fist resolute. "Before they hurt themselves." 

Seishirou smiled softly. He didn't let it reach his eyes. "You really are kind, Subaru." He had lost count of the number of times he had felt like making this remark since that late September day on that platform at Ikebukuro station.

The next day when Seishirou arrived at Subaru's apartment, the place was clean and Seishirou was graced with a truly unexpected treat. Subaru was dressed in full ceremonial attire, complete with white robes with red stitching, a heavy wooden rosary around his neck and snugly fitted white cotton gloves. 

Seishirou hid the thrill that ran through his body at the sight of such purity and innocence with his usual placid calm like an undisturbed lake's surface. His eyes fixed on the tightly gloved hands and once again he mentally searched for the resonance that should have be there. It was not. Seishirou itched to peel back that perfectly stainless cotton to check that the skin underneath still bore the magical traces he had left almost a decade prior.

Subaru enchanted the square of paper with a light touch. It crumpled into the vague shape of a flying animal. Subaru brought two fingers to his lips and whispered, "Fly."

The shape clarified. A three-headed crow with feathers of pure white erupted into being from the palm of Subaru's hand. Two of the heads opened their beaks to cry out as they angled their flight directly towards the open city. 

Boy though Subaru still was, Seishirou could not but appreciate the elegance on top of rigor with which the young Onmyouji - the name for the illustrious practitioners of that school of spiritual arts, Onmyoujutsu - handled each aspect of his work. 

It was the one side of Subaru that Seishirou felt he could relate to. Unfortunately, the boy's lack of experience showed.

What was intended to be a straightforward reconnaisance task very clearly was not shaping up to be all that straightforward. Of course, had Seishirou been the one undertaking the job, he would have terminated every source of trouble as soon as they appeared on the distant horizon. 

Subaru was kind. Subaru was naive. Subaru chose to tread the lightest path to the salvation of others even if it might be fatal. 

On a passing impulse, Seishirou directed a brief glance at Hokuto. He considered that perhaps the sole reason a boy like Subaru had lived to sixteen without being killed, captured or corrupted was possibly his sister’s tireless care. Fierce, brave Hokuto, whose occasional steely looks Seishirou thought wise to read as a threat. Clever, ambitious Hokuto, whose threats Seishirou thought unwise to treat as idle. 

When Subaru was the topic, Seishirou chose to believe that Hokuto said no word that was not true to the state of her heart. This, also, he was able to admire.

The rosary beads scattered in all directions as the string around Subaru's neck snapped in multiple places. The ceremonial dagger was unsheathed, and its tip plunged into the wooden floorboards. Subaru gripped the jewelled hilt tightly and leaned on it hard, breath ragged and sweat trailing down the curve of his neck.

Hokuto ran to the light switch and flicked it on, gasping when she saw him. 

"I'm OK," Subaru said quickly when she rushed to his side. Hokuto's worried expression contrasted with the sharp set of her green eyes which seemed to want to say, "Don't be ridiculous, workaholic little brother."

"I found them," he explained. "Three girls."

"And? Were they that hard to find?" Hokuto demanded with something between impatience and concern.

"Not really. That part was fine," Subaru said. "But they'd put up wards around their rooms, and what's worse is that the wards were incorrectly done. When I tried to call my crow back to me, well…"

"Karmic backlash is inevitable," Seishirou mused.

Hokuto raised an eyebrow.

"Like we were talking about yesterday. It doesn't necessarily have to be the spell itself that reflects back on the caster, but with powerful magic there is always some form of equally powerful return."

"Like the universe setting things right."

"Just like that," Seishirou answered. "These girls probably have no idea how powerful the backlash ought to be from the spells that they've been blindly using."

"The spirits in the local area," Subaru said. "They've been woken up by all the spiritual energy the girls have been channelling all this time."

Seishirou leaned close to Subaru. 

"Don't go overdoing it," he told him, calmly. He kept the sternness out of his voice. Surely Subaru could see how dangerous this might become if he insisted on doing things the long way round. Dangerous and wasteful. "You should have destroyed the wards, or wrought action on the girls straight away."

"Not when that could bring them harm," Subaru said. Kind, naive Subaru. "I'm in a position to observe for now. The state of their minds would be at risk if I acted by force."

Seishirou did not disagree out loud. Instead, he surveyed the room with the cold, critical gaze that he took to his own work. 

_Yes_ , he thought coolly. _If necessary, I don't think I'd have any trouble at all_.

That afternoon, Seishirou treated Subaru to a post-mediocrely-handled-job date. In fact, it was simply a resumption of the one that had been interrupted by the initial call regarding those over-zealous schoolgirls. 

Seishirou passingly remembered that those havoc-causing schoolgirls were probably, in fact, around the same age as Subaru, with whom he was currently walking between the tall tanks and deep displays at the Sunshine Aquarium in Ikebukuro. He dismissed the thought with a lazy flicker of irritation.

They watched emperor penguins dive for fish. Subaru stared at the underside of a huge manta ray that pressed itself against the glass. Schools of sharks swam overhead while they wandered companionably through glass tunnels. They talked of this and that, none of it of any lasting importance.

If it was case that being alone with Hokuto usually meant talking about society or fashion or cultural trends, being alone with Subaru usually meant long moments of comfortable silence. Subaru was obviously not naturally talkative, and this suited Seishirou just fine. If he was to be honest, Seishirou would not have called himself a talkative person by any stretch. He simply was whatever he was required to be, whenever he was required to be it. 

At times, curiously, Seishirou would find that another small part of their respective worldviews chanced to overlap. What's more was that Hokuto would normally be the one to point these out. Seishirou wasn't yet sure whether he was OK with this being the case. After all, why shouldn't he be the one to notice, especially since the matter concerned not only the object of his pursuits but also himself?

Not long after he had met both twins together for the first time, Hokuto declared herself earnestly in favour of his suit. There was nobody else, she had said with all the formality of a royal decree, who could make her brother the happiest. Seishirou recalled thinking the entire thing, from her baseless statement to her complete convinction, utterly ridiculous.

As time wore on, however, Seishirou had begun to see a small side of what Hokuto might herself have had full view of on that day, like the slow waxing of a brand new moon.

Another thing Hokuto had said about them was this:

"Sei," she said one day. They were folding mince and herbs into dumpling wrappers. Subaru was at her living room table, finishing an essay for class the following day. 

Seishirou deftly pleated the edges of the dough together and curved them neatly inwards to form a crescent. "What is it?" he asked.

"I was thinking," Hokuto said, in a tone that implied the thinking had taken place long ago and she was bringing up whatever followed completely deliberately.

"I was thinking," she said, "That my brother and you really are alike."

Seishirou felt a pinprick of genuine surprise. 

"I know what you're probably going to say," Hokuto continued. She shot a sly glance from the corner of her eye, and managed to catch his expression just in time before he smoothed it back into its usual ambiguous equanimity. 

"Of course, you're total opposites in some ways." She set down her spoon and began to roll out more dough. "Like the way you're so wholeheartedly devoted to my brother. I wish he could feel something like that one day."

Seishirou's expression was stiller than a breezeless morning.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked with casual ease.

"Well," Hokuto said. Seishirou looked at her, picking up on the uncharacteristic frustration in her tone. Hokuto bit her lower lip lightly.

"Subaru's kind, right?" she said finally.

Seishirou wasn't sure how to answer, except: "Of course."

"And he doesn't care about himself, as long as others are happy and unharmed."

"Right." Seishirou had absolutely no idea where this point could be headed.

"You see, he's always been like that." 

Seishirou waited, sensing that she was taking a few moments to find the right words. "It's as if, at some point after we were born, Subaru decided all by himself to shut his eyes tightly and only feel his way around instead." The rolling pin had gone still, and Hokuto's fingertips rested on it. The varnished nails were encrusted with small bits of dough. A little finger trembled very slightly. 

"He feels everyone's pain like it's his own. He doesn't feel anything for himself. I want him to be selfish. Even just once, I want him to have one thing that he wants above all, and that it's something only for him. Something that might not benefit anyone but him." 

Seishirou had also put down the ingredients in his hands, which he laid on the counter as she continued. "Subaru loves everyone, but he doesn't really see anyone as themselves."

"Surely that can't be true," Seishirou interjected quietly. "He loves you to death, I'd have said."

Hokuto smiled a slightly bitter smile. "He loves his twin," she said pointedly. When Seishirou clearly didn't see the difference, she explained. "He'd love me whether I acted like me or like anybody else. He'd find a way to love me even if I happened to be mean, or cruel, or haughty. It's because I'm his twin that he feels the way he does. He's bonded to my blood, not to who I am.

"And it's the same with every person he meets. The whole world would be no different! He loves humanity, but at the same time he doesn't truly connect with any individual person. To Subaru, every person is totally irreplaceable and totally unique."

"That's why he wants to save them?"

"I guess," Hokuto said. "I'm terrified that one day soon, the world will burn him up in all of its selfish suffering. I don't want my brother to suffer just because others do."

"Then what do you want?" Seishirou asked quietly.

Hokuto seemed to think for a few moments. The rolling pin under her palm started to rock again, gently spreading out neat circles of dough ready to be filled.

"I want Subaru to be happy. More than anything," she said. "I want him to learn to love somebody. For real, not in a kind and abstract way. I want him to feel jealousy and passion and all of those things that come with it." 

She paused for another moment, looking away before adding, "I think he can, if it's you."

They wrapped dumplings together in silence until the door slid open and Subaru shuffled into the kitchen, essay completed and complaining of hunger. The lingering mood from their conversation had vanished without a trace. By nightfall, only in Seishirou's mind did Hokuto's words continue to repeat with the persistence of a metronome. 

_"I want him to learn to love somebody."_

_"I think he can, if it's you."_

As it turned out, Subaru's fatal kindness finally broke Seishirou's patience in the week of their Ikebukuro dates. 

With no rosary and a burning fever, Subaru wore down his sister's pleas for him to rest. At times like this, those around him were reminded that Subaru was the heir to his family name. As was the same in Seishirou's case, the family name was functionally equivalent to their line of work and their centuries-old professional pride. What was a little thing like danger in the face of all that, no doubt was how Subaru felt.

Seishirou was glad he had asked permission to be there when Subaru performed the ritual. He kept one hand firmly on Hokuto and watched grimly as two of the girls broke through Subaru's wards. A whirlwind engulfed the space around Subaru, and where it touched him, narrow cuts opened in his clothing and skin. 

Ignoring his wounds, Subaru continued to perform the exorcism on the remaining schoolgirl via their telephone link. He persisted, while the cursed wind whipped around him like razor thread, until all of the negative karma had been dispelled from the girl's body. When he was finally sure that the last vestiges were gone and the girl's psyche was safe from harm, Subaru closed his eyes and sank like a stone to the scratched wooden floor.

Seishirou had seen enough. He caught Hokuto with one arm and put her to sleep as easily as picking up a mouse. He deposited her unconscious body onto the sofa, which had been pushed against the wall to make room for the wide pentagram in the centre of the floor.

Seishirou stepped very carefully into the bounds of the barrier. The thin guest slippers covering his feet cushioned his soft steps into silence. 

With no witnesses, Seishirou ceased to bother with any pretence at ritual. He raised a hand and seized one edge of the barrier that Subaru had wrought. The hilt of an ornate, bejwelled dagger rose obligingly into his outstretched palm.

First, he approached the source of the nuisance.

"That's quite enough from the both of you," he said into the mouthpiece.

The two spiritual localities were linked, and he could directly feel the surge of suspicion and paranoia from the other side. 

Something about being special; something about being chosen. Seishirou could not even pretend to care. He stroked a long cut on Subaru's cheek with an index finger, admiring how the scarlet sheen contrasted with the soft pale skin of Subaru's face, neck and jaw. The heads of several spirits began to emerge through the link between the here and there. 

Some words Hokuto had said in some indeterminate past floated to the front mind, quite unbidden. "I want him to learn to love somebody. I want him to feel jealousy and passion and all of those things."

Ridiculous, Seishirou thought stubbornly, and sharply called out in his mind to his familiar.

A huge raptor condensed from the air itself and wrapped its wicked talons around the curve of Seishirou's wrist. He had had enough of expendable words and meaningless sentiment. The hawk gave a cry and launched at the attacking spirits.

"Who cares," he said to the girls in that other space, "Whether or not you're special, or whatever it is you think you are?"

The girls screamed something in response, but it might simply have been fear.

Seishirou gathered Subaru's light body towards his chest. Subaru's professionalism had been admirable, but Seishirou was acting on personal pride. 

"I'm not kind like he is," Seishirou said. He hurled the hawk into the telephone link. "Don't assume that I'll just let you attack me."

"You still don't seem to understand at all," he continued, despite himself. "What's beautiful isn't wasting your precious time on fantasy and delusion, when you can live instead with both feet on the ground. You can laugh, and cry, and work, and eat, and live with your whole heart from morning to night, each and every day. That's the real beauty of the world we have. Don't you see it?"

It was a pointless question that didn't need an answer. The wordless screams through the line and the waves of blind terror reaching Seishirou through the spiritual link told him all that he needed to know.


	3. Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1991, Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter where nothing bad happens. :)

It was spring, and Seishirou had forgotten his lie about his birthday until the twins (well, Hokuto with Subaru in train) showed up at his clinic on the morning of the first day of April. They (Hokuto, to be exact) carried a large square cake box with an ornamental ribbon and burst through the automatic doors like a sudden spring shower. A small gift bag was hooked over Hokuto's wrist, and it swung as she marched across the tiles in her bright heels. Subaru stammered an apology to the stunned receptionist and blushed with embarrassment from his high collar to the low brim of his hat. Hokuto stepped around the flimsy chairs by the entrance with masterful ease despite the obstacles to her balance and vision. The cake box was plopped down onto a low table, and the gift bag neatly deposited at its side.

"What's all this?" Seishirou asked, partly addressing the question to the two guests and partly to his receptionist, who wore a look of long-suffering annoyance. 

Hokuto raised an arm, index finger extended in the universal language of accusation, in his general direction.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten your own birthday, Sei?" she demanded. "This is the problem with you workaholics! I even have to remind Subaru every year! I swear to almighty heaven-"

She jabbed the index finger at them both. The tapered nails were painted a high-gloss canary yellow to match her footwear. "You are both _exactly_ the same."

Seishirou held up his hands in mock protest or defeat - neither of which he felt, but it was enough to pacify Hokuto whose heel met the floor with a satisfied snap.

It was a weekday and there were still thirty or so minutes until the clinic was due open. The phone at the main desk had been almost constantly engaged since the twins' arrival. For now though, none of the enquiries demanded the personal attention of the veterinarian, and so he sat with the twins in what was normally the waiting area, and made light conversation with them both.

"This is for me too?" he asked, somewhat extraneously, gesturing to the small paper bag. 

"Ah, that one is not from me!" Hokuto declared with a mischievous note of glee. Subaru was blushing a violent shade of rose. 

"Thank you, Subaru," Seishirou said, amused and trying to peer into his averted eyes. A cap with a short brim cast the lids in shadow, and tips of a delicate fringe dusted the line of his brow. Seishirou looked for the shifting hue that was sometimes like cool moss or sometimes a moving sea. Today, he noted with approval, it was the latter. Broken up by black lashes, the glint from Subaru’s quiet gaze called to mind cloudy waves turning over a fretful ocean, a shifting image stolen through slanted Venetian blinds.

"You're welcome," Subaru murmured while his fingers locked and unlocked repeatedly. The soft leather rubbed with a light creaking sound. "It's a book we talked about on one of our… that we talked about once." 

_One of our dates, you meant to say, Subaru?_ Seishirou thought with a suppressed quirk of his lips. 

He reached into the bag and pulled out a medium sized paperback book. The first thing he noticed was that the cover design was unusually graphic. It depicted brightly dressed human figures packed closely like row houses, almost bending into each other and merging green skirts with pink flesh. They were arranged in the shape of a rolling hill, and above their heads were windows, all ornately shaped in unique sizes and arrangements, each seeming to glow with a golden light full of promise. 

"This is…" The title and author were written once in Spanish, and again in Japanese. They read: 

One Hundred Years of Solitude. Gabriel García Márquez.

"Where did you find this?" Seishirou asked. 

"At a second-hand bookseller's place," Subaru replied. Had Seishirou been anyone else, he might have felt stunned by the perceptiveness of Subaru's gift. 

"I hope you like it," Subaru said shyly, but he was facing him now and his self-effacing smile softened the contours of both cheeks in a way that could easily have arrested hearts in any period drama. Had Seishirou been anyone else, he might have considered that sincere and bashful expression to be utterly charming.

Seishirou was not anybody else, but still he said, "I do. Thank you." And in saying so, he meant it.

Time was pressing ahead heedless of their conversation, and a polite "Goodbye, Sir" from the receptionist followed by the immediate ringing of the phone again brought their morning conversation to a close. Customers would soon be entering with scraps of paper bearing names of medicines or questions from a working spouse to be put to the resident clinician. 

Hokuto repeated the plan for that evening, whereby Seishirou was formally obligated to attend her apartment to sample a birthday dinner made by Subaru's own hand.

"I'll be in charge, of course," Hokuto said reassuringly, not particularly bothering to skirt the backhanded compliment delivered to her brother with the words.

Seishirou promised to be there.

"Though don't you think I'm a little old to be celebrating my birthday?" he asked Hokuto.

"Nonsense," Hokuto countered. "If you're allowed to celebrate our birthday then it's only right that we should get to celebrate yours."

"Besides," she added, "I don't see anyone else making the effort."

Subaru had the grace to look mortified at the rudeness of his sister's throwaway comment. Even the receptionist paused very slightly and asked the customer to repeat the last part of his address. 

Seishirou just smiled his transparent, vacuum-wrapped smile. "You're right," he said. "It's thoughtful of you. I'm very grateful."

Hokuto beamed and her large earrings flashed as they caught the light.

"Now you know what friends are for," she said, far too breezily. With that, she hooked one arm under Subaru's and pulled him firmly towards the glass doors, thin heels clicking in a confident march across the white tiles.

That evening, they ate miso-grilled fish with pickled cucumber and strips of peppery radish. There was a soup containing carrot pieces cut in the shape of sakura and an assortment of fresh wild mushrooms. The rice was lightly seasoned. There were spring vegetables in crispy tempura batter and a salad made of thin seaweed, rice noodles and sesame. 

For dessert, Hokuto had prepared a shallow tray of tiramisu using a Guatemalan coffee bean and dark rum. The cream filling was cold and firm but easy in texture. The soaked biscuits had been handmade by Hokuto the previous evening. They were satisfyingly sweet and gave no more resistance to pressure than the inter-layered cream when she divided the tray into three roughly even segments and lifted them deftly onto separate shallow plates. 

"This is very impressive," Seishirou said as Hokuto laid the marginally biggest of the slices in front of him. "But one might be excused for thinking that you wanted to coax me into an early grave. Or at least the blood pressure unit."

Hokuto simply directed him a sweet smile as if he'd thanked her, and carried on fussing over Subaru.

"The staff and customers asked me to thank you for the cake you brought today," was the first thing Seishirou had said when he'd arrived. He had had a taste and been impressed by Hokuto's skill the texture of the sponge as well as the artful presentation overall. He had recalled her one and only career ambition to be a housewife. Somehow, at the time, he hadn't thought that that suited her.

Recalling that both twins were still under the impression that today was his birthday, Seishirou felt a compelling urge to keep any prospective conversation far away from his personal life. 

Ironically, the topic of diversion that he chose was one that came all too easily to mind.

"Hokuto," he said, interrupting while she brushed spots of cream off the cuffs of Subaru's gloves to quietly indignant protests. 

She cast a glance in his direction, handkerchief poised in one hand. "What is it?"

 _The last time I was here, you were going to tell me way in which Subaru and I were supposedly alike_ , he thought but didn't say. _What were they?_

"Would you give me your permission to ask dear Subaru for an innocent birthday kiss please?"

Subaru lowered his face so quickly that the tips of his fringe caught cream. Hokuto growled and began to attack with her twin brother with her handkerchief once more.


	4. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1991, Spring
> 
> And we begin to diverge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My self-indulgent story had to depart from canon in order to live up to its purpose, but I really struggled to settle on when to begin introducing departure while staying faithful to the premise of very weak chaos. 
> 
> The solution? Tell the story from the perspective of the oblivious dummy who doesn’t notice anything important. Even here, when the course of the evening plays out differently because of the tiniest of tiny changes in Subaru. 
> 
> When was that change initiated, and what caused it? Ask anyone but the oblivious dummy.

The second time was on an evening in late March. The second time, as it were, since the previous autumn that Seishirou had been gripped by a sense of inexplicable wrongness. It was like feeling déjà vu in a hall of mirrors.

The heavy rain showed no sign of lifting. The muted sound of rainfall on grass, pavement and painted railing mingled with the dull tap of stray drops against the thick glass of the kitchen window. A meat stew bubbled quietly on the stove. 

The bathroom door opened, and Subaru stepped out. The borrowed pyjamas were pinstripe and turned up multiple times at the ankle cuffs and sleeves. His wet fringe clung crookedly to his forehead and the damp tips of his hair made soft stalactites around his jaw. The pink of his cheeks were a rare sight, brought on by the heat of the bath. In the corners of his averted eyes and the lines around his mouth, the subtle signs that he had been crying were visible.

Seishirou closed his book and laid it on the arm of the sofa beside him. He gestured for Subaru to sit. He rose and wrapped a blanket around him when he complied. The leather of Subaru's gloves felt damp but soft. It seemed he had bathed with them on.

After that, he simply sat opposite, with his fingers folded together and his gaze on the space between them, until Subaru spoke first.

"I lied to her," Subaru said, eventually. His voice was toneless, and a little harsh.

Seishirou had only heard half of the story after Subaru had turned up at his doorstep, drenched and looking thoroughly miserable, insisting that it would be better for him to go straight home. Seishirou had taken one look at the sorry mess of his face and clothing and made an obvious decision for the better.

Subaru had reluctantly allowed himself to be bundled inside, towelled off on a bed and given a mug of hot tea with which to warm his shivering hands. Subaru had accepted the tea with a flicker of gratitude, and clutched it tightly. After a little prompting, he confessed the basic story of his evening, ending with calling the spirit of the girl to see her mother one last time. He would not say anymore.

And so, Seishirou had gently suggested that Subaru stay the night. That he would heat up the meal he had prepared and draw a bath. He took out guest towels and a spare set of pyjamas. He apologised for not having anything smaller. 

He had expected Subaru to object more, to protest against the trouble, but to Seishirou's surprise he simply wore an expression of defeat and thanked him with a small nod.

Now, they sat opposite each other and Subaru opened himself up to the person he probably considered his friend. Seishirou relaxed his hands very deliberately, and leaned back while resting them lightly on his knees. Even at such proximity, he strained to pinpoint the source of the unease that he felt.

"The poor mother," Subaru continued with his dull, sunken expression. "I couldn't tell her the truth. I made my own decision and ignored what she had asked for."

"What did the child say?"

"The child was so angry," Subaru said. "She wanted not just revenge, but for her mother to kill the man who had caused her such torment. Perhaps she felt that making others feel as she did might alleviate her pain and loneliness."

"I could see the mother's anguish," Subaru continued. "It felt so similar. And despite it all, despite the fact that I had been the one pushing her to do it, when the moment came…"

"No, Subaru," Seishirou said, interrupting gently. "I don't believe you did anything bad. You wanted to protect the woman from herself, didn't you?"

Subaru looked vaguely surprised. "I don't know," he said. "Is that what I wanted?"

"From what you say, she didn't understand what happiness meant. Whether you lied or told the truth, she wouldn't have known what action was best for herself. You feel bad about taking the decision away from her. Perhaps you think doing so is wrong in any circumstance."

"I thought she'd never be happy again, if I told her what her daughter really said."

"If someone is incapable of judging their actions properly," Seishirou said, leaning forward and taking hold of Subaru's fingertips, "Is it their fault? Can you blame them for the mistakes they make?"

Subaru met his eyes hesitantly. "No," he said. "They wouldn't be to blame at all."

"In which case," Seishirou said gently, "You should forgive yourself too."

The startled reaction from Subaru told Seishirou very clearly that he hadn't considered this for even a moment. _Pure_ , he thought. For some reason, this deeply irritated him more than he was able to ignore.

"Subaru," he said, standing up. He adjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and looked towards the entrance for his coat.

"What's wrong?" Subaru asked.

"Nothing," Seishirou replied. "Nothing's wrong at all. But I've just remembered something that I needed to buy."

"If I'm in the way-" Subaru began.

"You're not in the way," Seishirou said, more firmly than he had intended. He laid a hand on Subaru's shoulder and directed towards him what he imagined to be an appeasing smile. Casually skirting the need to make eye contact, he added with as much levity as he could imbue, "I'll be back in a few moments, then let's have dinner."

He felt Subaru's unnervingly watchful gaze fixed on his profile nonetheless. He mentally willed that Subaru would save the question he no doubt wanted to ask for later.

"OK," came the simple reply.

By the time Seishirou remembered the rain, it was far too late to do anything about it. His mood was foul, and the awareness of his apparent absent-mindedness made it fouler. It was hardly the case that he had made an excuse to leave for a moment. He fumbled irritably with a cigarette, determined to light it despite the wind and rain.

He closed his eyes as he exhaled a stream of smoke that scattered instantly and with ease. He couldn't stay out for too long. 

There was a convenience store around the corner. He stepped in, palmed rain off his coat, and walked straight to the counter. The clerk greeted him familiarly and reached for a pack of Mild Sevens. Seishirou asked for two packs and paid with a note. He asked the clerk to please keep the change.

Stepping out of the store, he paused under the awning as he lit another. The rain was easing. No stars were ever visible above the well-lit Shinjuku streets but on nights like this when the clouds parted, whatever was present of the moon looked exceedingly beautiful. Seishirou was reminded of a scene where Juliet pulled open her curtains while lustful Romeo watched below.

 _Melancholy the moon_ , he thought, _behind her crystal blinds._

Who was that again? Not Shakespeare, that was certain. A priest, he seemed to recall, some time in the early nineteenth…oh. Right. Seishirou remembered. It was a poem that Subaru had read, months ago, for a Classical Literature class. 

Of course.

Subaru.

Before he re-entered his building, Seishirou glanced at his reflection in the glass doors. The clinic and the rest of the building were effectively all his, from the square of land, foundations and all, right up to the third floor where he slept. No mean feat, as it happened, in a lively district at the centre of a crowded capital city. Where, he also noted, he had already invited Subaru to stay that night. 

Seishirou extinguished his third cigarette and wrapped up the wrinkled stub in a square of tissue along with the other two. He deposited the small bundle into a public waste bin at the side of the street. Then he went back to his reflection, used his fingers as a approximate comb, gave himself his most winning, impersonal smile and unlocked the glass door.

Upstairs, he found Subaru cross-legged on a rug in the centre of the living room, leaning over something with the woollen blanket pulled loosely around his shoulders. Seishirou immediately regretted leaving a guest alone in his house.

Refusing to let even a modicum of tension show, he announced his arrival cheerfully.

"I'm back!" he called, as if he hadn't climbed a flight of stairs and opened and closed two doors since stepping back into his home. Subaru seemed to startle out of whatever thought or object he had been concentrating on.

When he turned his body to greet his host with an accompanying apology, Seishirou was relieved to see that Subaru had simply picked a paperback book from his shelf.

"I should apologise for dashing out so suddenly," Seishirou insisted with his smooth, vacuous smile. "I suddenly remembered that I had run out of cigarettes." This was a lie, but in fairness he never exactly felt that he had too many packs of cigarettes.

Subaru's brow creased slightly.

"You disapprove?" Seishirou asked, amusement in his voice.

"Not exactly," Subaru replied, the crease not going anywhere. "I mean, of course, I think you should look after your health but what you choose to do is none of my business. If I really thought you were hurting yourself, or others, then perhaps I might be worried."

"Right," Seishirou said.

"It's just..."

"Go on."

"Well-" Subaru looked down and slightly to the side, colour rising ever so faintly. "It's raining. You must be cold."

 _You must be cold_. Of course. Had Seishirou forgotten? Clearly, forgetfulness was becoming a habit of his. Once again, a moment as strange and inconsequential as this one reminded him that, before whatever else he might be - modest, young, impractically naive, Subaru's heart had kindness in every chamber. 

_The exact opposite of mine._

As they ate, they talked about lighthearted, simple subjects. Subaru's lessons, his work, his ambitions for the future. Seishirou found Subaru's determination to keep studying even while working what would soon become a full-time job admirable if unrealistic. He saw no obvious advantage to Subaru's working himself so hard in two completely incompatible and ultimately irreconcilable endeavours.

They discussed the colourful individuals that Hokuto had dated ("It's OK, she tells everyone quite happily," Subaru reassured him) among which there seemed an even distribution of genders and personalities.

"I think she's drawn to the ones that are true to themselves," Subaru said, wonderingly. "Of course, it hasn't worked out so far, but..."

"A charming girl like Hokuto should have no trouble finding another," Seishirou put in generously.

"That's not it," Subaru said, shaking his head and licking the tips of his chopstick in thought. "Most of them are completely smitten with her."

"So, the problem..."

"The problem is that she's never satisfied with them. She can accept anyone and be friends with anyone, but when it comes to love..."

"Love is different?" Seishirou asked.

"Of course it's different," Subaru said, surprised. Seishirou wasn't entirely sure how to interpret the look that Subaru shot him. He didn't like to imagine that it could have been on the lines of incredulity.

Undeterred, Seishirou prompted. "How is it different?"

"Love and friendship?"

"Yes."

"Seishirou," Subaru said, politely as ever, though his tone was faintly reproachful.

"Yes?"

"I'd really rather you didn't make fun of me."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"Well." Subaru set down his chopsticks and seemed torn between whether he wanted to frown or look embarrassed. "The fact is that someone who has grown up as distant from real society as me couldn't possibly know nearly as much about _love_ and suchlike as…well, as…"

"As me?" Seishirou asked. The corners of his lips threatened to show his ironic fascination. It was natural, he supposed, that if he appeared well-socialised to the average citizen, not to mention diplomats and politicians, a heavily sheltered child like Subaru would probably easily have formed a wildly inaccurate idea of Seishirou's actual life experiences. Not that he hadn't experience plenty. But, as a very rare exception, emotions akin to love most definitely did not belong to them. For that matter, probably neither did friendship as Subaru would think of it.

Subaru seemed to be watching him very seriously. 

Seishirou did not expect an apology to follow this strange accusation and scrutiny.

"I'm sorry," Subaru said, all politeness and sincerity. "It’s none of my business. I made assumptions that I shouldn't have."

Without thinking, Seishirou said: "No, that's OK." Then he blinked.

They finished their meal, after which Subaru thanked him again for the trouble he had gone to, and Seishirou herded him to his bedroom upstairs. Subaru seemed to surreptitiously conceal his nervousness. Seishirou was seized by a mischievous impulse.

"Subaru," he said. "How would you feel if we slept together tonight?"

The question was innocuous, the tone bland, the air exceedingly casual. The reward was as entertaining as it was predictable: Subaru performing the emotional equivalent of hitting floor and roof simultaneously. 

Seishirou chuckled as he pushed him gently but firmly onto the bed. "I'm kidding," he said, then repeated it when the meaning clearly hadn't penetrated correctly. "Just a joke, don't worry. Of course I wouldn't suggest such a thing. Imagine what Hokuto would do to me?"

Subaru eyed him warily. Stray hair caught against lashes as he brushed it out of his eyes. He seemed mollified but nevertheless unimpressed. He also muttered something, which Seishirou thought might have ended with "making fun of me".

Finally, Seishirou turned to leave, having successfully put down any objections Subaru had to him sleeping on the sofa downstairs. He had one hand already on the handle of the door when Subaru called out to him. 

"Seishirou," Subaru said, politely, and his voice was soft and warm and mille-feuille-sweet. 

Seishirou turned his head partway. Consciously still, he indicated with barely a tilt of a shoulder that Subaru had his attention.

"Thank you, Seishirou," the tender voice said. 

Seishirou dismissed the sentiment. He faced the door and pressed the handle firmly. "There's no need-"

"No," came the immediate reply. "I mean it. I felt truly horrible when I came over, but just spending the evening talking with you and eating with you has helped me see a completely new perspective. I won't be so conflicted anymore."

"So," Subaru's voice said, "Thank you, Seishirou-san."

Had the rays of afternoon light through the branches of the Sakura been as gentle as this? How did it come to be that a person held together by the spiritual equivalent of string - which was probably stronger than what Subaru's heart was made from - had lived successfully for so long without being broken by hands such as his?

All of a sudden, Seishirou felt a surge of lust for the warmth of fresh blood on his wrist, and nothing but the taste of thrill in the back of his throat and deep in his lungs.

"Good night, Subaru," he said, and closed the door behind him.

In the hallway was a long mirror. Seishirou gazed for a few moments at the person reflected back at him. The mouth bore an expression that he held no interest in reading. _Blood,_ he recalled deliberately, _Crisp snow. Blood, paving stones and the sickly sweet of petals crushed underfoot…_

His knuckles felt hard glass bend and splinter. Shards fell around his feet as his reflected face was violently split apart. Too late, he recalled that he had not put Subaru to sleep under any kind of magic that would ensure his swift and insensible departure from consciousness. Counting the seconds, Seishirou stopped at twelve and allowed himself to breathe normally once more. He was getting unforgiveably sloppy. Any more, and he should simply end this entire farcical affair.

He picked up a shard of mirrored glass and crushed it to even finer fragments in his palm. Warmth leaked along the broken edges and made spots on the laminated floor. _I will win_ , he thought grimly. _I won't have to end anything. I will win this bet as easily as I have crushed this pane of glass. And after I win, I will kill you._


End file.
